Cons:

Taking the disparate elements of super-deformed caged simians, those huge plastic balls nutcase contestants in Road Rules roll down hills in, and supremely tweakable Marble Madness-inspired zones in which to maneuver the monkey and ball, and you've got an inspired and seminal GameCube hit of 2001. Three and a half years on, and in keeping with Sega's 2005 release plans, a rehashed version of the game is out for Xbox and PlayStation 2. Is this "re-done" version on a par with the sparkling Daytona USA Dreamcast conversions of yesteryear, or an appalling molestation of a classic, like the recent reworking of Golden Axe? Does it shine like a baboon's backside, or stink like a chimpanzee's poo-splattered zoo cage?

It's the former, fortunately. Think of Super Monkey Ball Deluxe as the 800lb. gorilla of action-puzzle games. Think of it as the "Director's Cut" of the series, crammed with bells, whistles, and other trinkets of awesomeness. Think of it as yet another slap in the face to GameCube's early adopters who bought the first game and its sequel for $50 each. Those familiar with previous monkey balling know what to expect; especially as Sega has ripped the innards from Super Monkey Balls 1 and 2, and stuffed them into an all-singing, all-dancing, all-feces throwing version -- but certainly not all-new. This is a Frankenstein-like retooling with 114 of SMB1's stages, 140 from SMB2, and a piddling 46 "Deluxe-exclusive" boards, plus some other bits and pieces crammed together and shoved on the shelves at a reasonably priced $30.

Manipulating A Monkey

One of the tenets for crafting a sublime gaming experience is to try something completely innovative, new, and instantly accessible. Sega almost managed this the first time around, appropriating a ball-bearing from the old-school classic Marble Madness, and imprisoning humanity's favorite creature of ridicule: the great ape. Drop them in small, but ultimately infuriating floating stages suspended high above an unrealistic single polygon backdrop, and attempt to maneuver them from one side to the other, optionally collecting bananas along the way. Theoretically simple, but once the initial dozens of stages (usually involving nothing more offensive than rolling down a banked hill or bouncing across a small gap) transform into Mensa-level puzzles involving tactically precise rolling across switches, disappearing floor sections, crazily narrow ramps, all with the sweat dripping from your palms and the vertigo-induced hand spasms, then one of two things happens:

1. You'll either revel in the adrenaline-pumping insanity of it all, vowing to cross that impossibly narrow, overly exposed chute with great chunks of floor missing, or

2. You'll throw the controller down (optionally stamping on it repeatedly) and begin an expletive-laden shouting match with your television as it shows more and more monkey plummets that you believe you had no hand in creating.